


Good Cheer

by fractualized



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Telltale Series (Video Game)
Genre: Christmas Party, Christmas Presents, Fluff, Hedgehogs, M/M, Mental Institutions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:07:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28314273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fractualized/pseuds/fractualized
Summary: Bruce and John exchange gifts at the Arkham holiday party, and John also gives Bruce a special rescue mission.(For the 2020 Batjokes Secret Santa.)
Relationships: John Doe/Bruce Wayne, Joker (DCU)/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 16
Kudos: 61





	Good Cheer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PortableAnimations](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PortableAnimations/gifts).



> My Batjokes Secret Santa mission is Telltale fluff/humor? Oh, wow, what a stretch! haha
> 
> Anyway, this is for Ammil. Hope you like it! :)

The Arkham guard handed the gift back and gestured for Bruce to move along. The visitors who'd passed inspection ahead of him turned left down the hall, following arrows taped to the walls, and he did the same. They joined a group waiting by a set of double doors that led back out into the cold, to a dirt path down to the gymnasium.

The gym was included in the earliest plans of the asylum's founder to expand his home into an institution, to encourage his patients to maintain their physical health as well as their mental health. But, as often happened, eventual lack of funding led to lack of staff which led to lack of activities, and the building was closed up for almost sixty years. Its reopening a few months ago was thanks to a push from advocacy organizations (aided by Bruce's clout). The staff had decided to use it not only for regular exercise classes, but for special events– like today's holiday party.

Waiting with his fellow guests, Bruce leaned against the wall and examined the stuffed animal in his hands. Gifts had to meet the asylum's criteria and remain unwrapped for the usual screening process, though you could bring a bag to add back the element of surprise. The guard had regarded the small spotted hyena with a simple "cute." Bruce still couldn't decide if she was being sarcastic.

"Oh, isn't that a cutie!"

He glanced up. Pat, whose brother was anti-mindknives Billy, had arrived. She hugged a folded blue blanket tied with green ribbon to her chest.

"It is?" Bruce said, eyebrows up, double checking.

"Of course! You don't think so?"

"I do. I just… It's…"

Her eyes lit up. "Oh, this is your first Christmas, isn't it? Since the big announcement."

She chuckled, because it had been less of an announcement and more of a (since fired) orderly sending the tabloids a picture of Bruce and John kissing in the garden. It had been their first kiss, after a heart-pounding confession that felt close to cracking Bruce's ribs. Of course, the speculation afterward insisted that they must have been hiding a relationship for months or years, but no, this was their first Christmas as a couple– as much of a couple as they could be with one-hour visits a few times a week, supplemented with phone calls.

"John will love it," Pat said.

"And Billy will love the blanket," Bruce said in return. A red bag decorated with green swirls hung off his elbow, and he put the hyena inside.

"Okay, folks!" announced an orderly as he came around the corner and through the group. "Let's head to the party."

He opened the righthand door and held it for everyone as they passed. The path, clear of last week's snowfall, went down a slight slope to the doors of the gym, all browned brick and square windows. The group found another open door there, this one held by a patient wearing a Santa hat.

"Happy holidays!" she greeted, repeating it as everyone filed in.

A few wreaths and garlands couldn't transform the stony exterior of Arkham Asylum into a holiday wonderland, but the patients had put in much more effort inside the gym. Shiny garland swirled up the support posts for the raised walkway around the perimeter of the expansive room, and hanging from ribbons between each post were paper snowflakes as well as paper plates decorated to look like ornaments, covered with colored tissue paper. In the middle of the room sat four long tables covered in bright red plastic tablecloths and scattered with more snowflakes. Off to the side, a table draped in green held snacks and drinks. A patient played cheery carols on a keyboard at the front of the room.

The back wall, behind the tables, was covered in craft paper and painted to look like a big brick fireplace, with yellow and orange flames waving from stacked logs. Paper stockings hung on the two-dimensional mantle, with a felt wreath stuck above. Beside the fireplace stood a modest tree with white lights and a gold tinsel star on top.

A few dozen patients had been milling about the scene when the visitors first arrived, and now they came forward to greet their loved ones. Curiously, Bruce wasn't immediately attacked with a hug, and as he walked further inside, he finally spotted John at the back by the tree.

The pale man wore a Santa hat of his own, of course, and a long-sleeved red shirt under his Arkham top. Disconcertingly, he was baring his teeth and jabbing his finger at Arnold Wesker, whose sock puppet looked back and forth between them. The handful of orderlies hadn't caught onto the scene amidst everything else going on. Bruce approached with steady but long strides. 

By now, he knew that Arnold's puppet was named Scarface, after a ventriloquist dummy he used to own that had a cut through its eye. In Arkham, Arthur channeled his friend into a succession of socks, which changed as they were lost or damaged. Today Scarface looked brand new and heather blue, with neatly stitched white buttons for eyes, plus a tiny Santa hat attached over Arnold's knuckles.

"John's on the money as usual," came Scarface's rough voice. "You just let him handle it!"

"I‐I am," Arthur said, pushing through his meekness. "It was just a question."

Bruce stopped a few feet away. "Is everything okay?"

"Buddy!" John exclaimed, sneer vanishing. He stood up straight with his hands clasped behind his back. "Just dandy!"

"Right," Bruce said, glancing at Arnold, whose eyes darted around. Scarface had an upturned-nose look, like someone minding his own business.

"We were just having a rousing discussion of which reindeer is _really_ the greatest," John said. "Clearly Santa was perfectly productive before Rudolph showed up."

"Yeah," Scarface agreed, "so why are we minimizin' the contributions of the original team? Doesn't seem fair, does it?" The hand turned to Arnold.

"I, uh…" Arnold scratched his head. "The song does say that–"

"The song says!" Scarface exclaimed, turning to Bruce. "This guy, fallin' for propaganda! And the docs ask why he still needs me around."

Bruce did not at all believe that this was the argument. "Your aunt's here, Arnold," he said, gesturing to a short elderly woman who'd taken a seat at a front table. She waved in their direction.

"Oh, excellent," Arnold said with a smile.

"Let's go see what ugly sweater she brought ya," Scarface muttered.

"N-now, you said you'd be nice to her!" Arnold scolded as he walked away.

"Ain't I nice to everyone?" came Scarface's defensive reply.

Bruce didn't hear the response; John came forward and threw his arms around him.

"Merry Christmas, buddy!" he cheered.

"Merry Christmas," Bruce said. He could press about the scene later.

John pulled back and rubbed his hands together, eyeing the bag on Bruce's arm. "Let's get to the gifts!"

Bruce chuckled. "Sounds good."

John bounced over to the nearest table and sat at the end, where a small paper bag waited. It was white with red and green crayon drawings: wreaths and candy canes and snowmen. Bruce took the chair opposite.

"How about I go first?" Bruce said. He needed to get through these nerves.

"Ooh, a whole bag of cash?" John joked. "How much of your fortune do I get exactly?"

Bruce laughed, thinking of a meeting he'd had with his accountants, but that seemed too big to tell John now. "Just open it," he said, handing over his present.

John took the bag by the handles and just as quickly dropped it as he pulled out the hyena. "Oh, look at this little beast!" he cooed, eyes alight.

"I thought she might be nice company for you."

John hugged the stuffed animal to his chest, rubbing his cheek into her muzzle. "Yes, I think so."

"Because, I…" Bruce fidgeted. "I can't always be here, though I want to be, so I just… I'm here for you even when I'm away."

John smiled. "I know."

"But if you need a reminder… Under her collar…"

John inspected the felt collar around the plush's neck, letting out a little noise when he saw the message printed along the inside. _Our stitch stays because of the strength of your thread._

"Aw, Bruce," John said quietly with a sniffle.

Bruce stood up when John did and took the other man into his arms, squishing the hyena between them. A blush rose to his cheeks; he wasn't used to expressing himself in sentimental notes. That was what John would have, though, on lonely nights and in darker moments.

John rose on his toes to peck Bruce on the lips. "Okay," he said, nudging Bruce back into his chair. "Now you."

He pushed his gift across the table, then pulled his chair around so they could sit side-by-side, the hyena still in his lap. The rolled top of the bag was held in place with a staple through a neat green bow, and Bruce popped it open, unrolled the bag, and reached in. 

He pulled out two bracelets made with plastic beads. The colors cycled through black, purple, blue, and green, except for three white beads: a J, a red heart, and a B.

"I, uh, made them in craft class," John explained. "I got to thinking, too, that we can't see each other all the time, but we..." He stroked the hyena's scruff. "We think about each other a lot, and it would be nice to have something that's not just in our heads, like… like a little piece of me out there with you."

Bruce fanned his fingers, and the bracelets stretched on their elastic cords.

"I know it's not fancy enough to wear with your suits and everything," John went on, quickly now, "but when you're at home–"

"I'll wear it all the time," Bruce promised, looking at him.

John raised an eyebrow. " _All_ the time?"

Bruce hesitated. "I wouldn't want it to get damaged under the gauntlet, or lost. But at the office, to parties, at home, it's on."

John grinned. "Good. I want those stuffy people to see it the most."

Bruce chuckled and tipped John's head up to kiss him. "They will," he said, rolling one of the bracelets onto his wrist.

John nuzzled Bruce's shoulder. "And they'll know you're my Brucie, buddy, baby, Batsy…"

"A little quieter on that last one," Bruce murmured as he put the second bracelet on John.

"Hee, sorry." John held out his arm, almost like someone would look at an engagement ring.

The comparison didn't bother Bruce as much as he would have thought.

"Everyone!" called an orderly over by the silent keyboard. "We're gonna start some sing-alongs if you'd like to join."

That wasn't Bruce's idea of a fun time, but… "You want to sing?" he asked John.

The other man suddenly looked unsure again. "Uh, no, let's just listen from over here."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I like sitting with you," John said as his eyes followed everyone getting up.

"Uh huh."

Bruce waited patiently as more people flowed to the front of the room. He took a moment to reach behind John and flip the tail of his hat over his head so the pom-pom bopped his face. John snickered and bopped the hyena's snout into Bruce's nose. As the music started up again, John set the toy on the table and hopped up.

"Let me show you which ornaments I made!" he said, dragging Bruce to the tree.

Bruce glanced around. The patients and guests who'd stayed back were busy chatting, and the orderlies' attention was focused elsewhere. He looked at the tree. It was artificial and covered with homemade ornaments.

"Oh, this snowman made of cotton balls?" John said, pointing high. "Zsasz actually made that one before, uh, an incident with the glue– the glue and _not_ the safety scissors, if you can believe it– but this styrofoam ornament below it, that was me!" The ball was wrapped in red and green ribbon and covered in silver star stickers, but John quickly drew Bruce's attention further down the tree. "There's Arnie's felt Santa, looking pretty jolly, and Billy put a lot of time into these clothespin reindeer. I don't know who made that popsicle-stick tree. Like, why put a tree on a tree? Weirdo. See, down here, I used the popsicle sticks to make some sparkly snowflakes…"

John settled on his knees, and Bruce crouched beside him. John lifted the tree skirt and reached underneath, sliding a Santa hat into view. Nestled in the hat was a… brown tennis ball? With fur– no, not fur…

John checked over his shoulder before carefully slipping his hands under the hat to cup the balled hedgehog. Its face was hidden, but its quills looked relaxed, neatly laid down. Bruce could see the tiny movements of its breaths.

"Me and Arnie found the little guy this morning, when we came out to decorate after breakfast," John whispered. He leaned against Bruce and kept his hands close to their bodies to shield the animal from sight. "I thought he was getting a little tanning in, but Arnie said hedgehogs don't really come out in winter unless they're sick. So being out in the snow would be bad, right? I nicked Arnie's hat and hid the little guy in here."

"Why didn't you tell the staff?" Bruce asked.

"Well, Leland is on vacation, and the rest… I know you got rid of the troublemakers, and these newbies seem okay, but in the old days, bringing attention to something like this around here…" John kept his eyes on the hedgehog. "Sometimes it didn't end well."

Bruce nodded. "And it's hard to trust the newbies after what happened with that photo."

John laughed. "At least we have a picture of our big moment!" Leave it to him to find a silver lining.

"So you want me to take your friend to a vet when I leave?"

"Roger."

"Uh, ten-four."

John rolled his eyes. "Roger is his _name_."

"Oh, of course." Bruce peered at the bristly ball. "It's hard to tell how he's doing. I should probably take him now."

John pouted. "But you just got here."

"You want to just put him back under there alone? For how long?"

"Only for like… a couple..." John trailed off, then heaved a sigh. "Ugh, I guess you're right."

"We'll talk again soon, and I'll still see you next week."

"I know."

Bruce lifted his wrist and tapped the bracelet. "And you'll still be out there with me."

John snorted. "I didn't think we'd need the symbolism so soon."

* * *

A week later, John stood outside Dr. Leland's office. Back from her trip, she was scheduled for the sparsely staffed New Year's Eve shift. An orderly in the dayroom had barked for John to go see her, with no indication of why. They didn't have a session that day, and when they did, it was usually in the morning, not the afternoon.

John straightened his clothes, checking himself over for evidence of any infractions, not that he'd done anything to be disciplined for (unless you counted stealing Roland's pudding cup, but the bruiser really needed to learn to be more observant). Then he knocked.

"Come in!" Leland called.

John swung open the door and sauntered into the room with an easy grin. Yet somehow what came out instead of his cheerful greeting was, "I didn't do anything."

Sitting behind her desk, Leland smiled. "You did something very kind," she corrected. She gestured to the couch against the wall. "Have a seat."

He shut the door and perched on the edge of a cushion.

"I know about the hedgehog," she said plainly, "and it's fine, John. I hope in the future you feel more comfortable telling someone here, but what matters is that you made sure Roger got where he needed to go."

She knew the hedgie's name, and John hadn't told Arnold, so… "Bruce called you?"

"He wanted you to see–" A beeping ringtone cut her off. "Actually, that should be him."

She came over to the couch, reaching into her coat pocket. As she sat next to John, she held her phone out in front of their faces, then tapped the green icon.

And there was Bruce's smile. "Hey, buddy," he said with a wave. He still had the bracelet on. "Hello, Doctor."

"Hi!" John chirped back, waving and pointing at his own bracelet. He elbowed Leland. "Bending the phone rules for me? I _am_ your favorite."

"I can make allowances when appropriate," she replied matter-of-factly.

"Mm hm." John grinned at Bruce. "Couldn't wait until the new year to see me?" Their next visit was tomorrow.

"The vet heard back from an animal rescue," Bruce answered. "They have someone to take care of Roger until he can be released in the spring. You sounded worried on our call the other day, so I thought you could see him off."

The camera turned, showing a flash of eggshell cabinets and countertops before landing on a steel exam table. Roger was snuggled in a little pink blanket in a metal pan. A tiny Santa hat like Scarface's was propped on his head quills.

"Oh, he's even cuter!" John exclaimed, then his mood dimmed. "He's still sleeping, though."

"He's sleeping the way he usually would," Bruce explained. "Hedgehogs are primarily awake at night, so– oh, we've disturbed him."

Roger blinked his beady little eyes and his quills went up, toppling the hat.

"Hey, little guy!" John said. "Yeah, he looks good!"

"All thanks to you."

"Aw, shucks. I guess it's my affinity for nocturnal creatures."

Leland didn't get what John meant by that of course, but he could hear slight tension when Bruce replied, "Must be."

Then there was the sound of a door opening, and a voice off-screen said, "The foster's here, Mr. Wayne."

"Thank you," Bruce replied, and the camera zoomed in on Roger. "Want to send him off?"

John leaned closer to the phone. "Goodbye, Rog! Stay warm and cozy."

"Alright, he's ready to go."

The view shifted to the floor as Bruce and the vet assistant exchanged more words. The assistant took Roger out to the waiting room, while Bruce left through a side entrance. When he was outside, Bruce brought the phone back up to his face again, with a brick wall as his backdrop.

"That's that," he said. "I'll see you tomorrow, John."

"Or…" John tilted his head onto Leland's shoulder and batted his eyelashes at her. "Maybe we could have another call for the countdown to midnight?"

Unamused, Leland just raised an eyebrow.

John slumped. "Can't blame a guy for asking," he muttered. He managed a small smile for Bruce. "I'll be thinking of you."

"I'll think of you," Bruce echoed.

"Oh, I know you'll be working late."

"Yes, but I can take a moment. We can both look outside when the fireworks start."

"My window doesn't face the…"

John caught onto Bruce's tone. It must have sounded like normal reassurance to Leland, but she didn't know that sometimes John looked out his window and saw Batman perched on the spire outside his room. 

"Right, I get it," John said with a wink. "We can still appreciate the moment." He cocked his head thoughtfully. "Unless there's a major explosion or something."

Leland's brows drew together in confusion, and Bruce pushed out a laugh.

"Yeah," he said breezily, "I put out more fires across Wayne Enterprises than people think. But John"– he fixed the camera with a serious look– "if you do miss me, I hope my gift can boost your mood."

John nodded. "Holly jolly I'll be, for sure."

"Well, I'm not trying to make you not feel sad, I just–"

"Oh, Bruce," Leland piped up, "John knows that. I believe Holly is the hyena's name."

John gave her a thumbs up but shot Bruce an unimpressed look. "And I didn't even tell her."  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays, everybody!


End file.
